


Intertwined

by ktalexis



Category: The Selection Series - Kiera Cass
Genre: Dystopia, F/M, Fantasy, Romance, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-16 00:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktalexis/pseuds/ktalexis
Summary: Theia Costas is a girl that lives a simple life as a Two in Clermont. The entire nation is turned upside-down with a shocking death and a kingdom on the verge of crumbling must make hasty decisions to right itself. She finds herself as one of thirty-six ladies among which Prince Kyprios will choose a bride from. As her journey plays out, she finds herself drawn in two separate directions: following her heart, which calls to one, or a life she never dared dream of, which leads her in another.





	1. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to the life of Theia Costas

The glass door to her office and a head popped in, but Theia, absorbed in her work, hardly noticed. It wasn't until the visitor cleared his throat that she started, doe eyes latching upon the noise.

 

"Oh," she stammered, blinking rapidly, "d-does Selene need some-something?"

 

"Her coffee," Austin replied flatly. Clearly the day was treating him about as well as it was her. When Selene got into a mood, the entire department felt her wrath. "And that portfolio Oliver dropped off about that one designer she wants us to use for next month's issue." He brought his fingers up to his temples, kneading slightly. "And be prepared for a long one."

 

Theia sighed, picking up the large, leather-bound folder that had been left at her desk before retrieving the iced latte for her boss from the fridge. "Thanks, Austin," she managed to murmur on her way out, wondering how, after her two years at the magazine _Luxe_ , she still wasn't doing something a little more worthwhile than retrieving beverages and running errands.

 

Though, if she were honest, it's not like she ever really tried to go for an opportunity to do more.

 

She bustled into the conference room, careful to avoid the sorted stacks of magazines pas and maneuvering the maze of clothing racks before setting the portfolio on one of many and setting the coffee carefully on a coaster.

 

"You're late."

 

"I-I-I know, I'm sorry. I-"

 

"Nope," Selene chided, cutting her off and raising her head from the two scarves she had been examining, "save it. Too much to do; irrelevant words waste my time."

 

Theia pressed her lips together, bowing her head slightly, her cheeks becoming slightly flushed. Selene Alston was perhaps the only person in the province of Clermont who could silence even King Cyrus with one of her looks. Certainly, she was the only person in Mialdo. Theia, on the other hand, was the meekest person in the city, likely even the whole kingdom of Illéa.

 

"Do you need anything else, or should I go get Toine for you?" She asked quietly, carefully rearranging the bracelets that had been set upon the table. She tried to keep herself from looking too closely at the clothes hanging from the racks. She would only get sucked in, styling and designing look after look and outfit after outfit, and _that_ was something Selene definitely wouldn't give her the freedom to do.

 

"Actually, Toine is out," the immaculate brunette commented, preoccupied with belts now, "so you'll be helping to style this issue. Hope you don't have plans this evening because you'll be cancelling them."

 

Theia _did_ have plans that evening, but she was so ecstatic--inwardly, of course--at the chance to show Selene her styling skills instead of her desk-labor ones that she knew Alezekiel would understand if she called him to raincheck. After all, no one understood her ambitions like her best friend.

~~~

"She _WHAT_???"

 

Theia had to hold the phone away from her ear. Alez had enough energy for the both of them, which was good, considering exuberant was not in her top characteristics.

 

"I _said_ ," Theia whispered quickly, glancing up from her desk hurriedly and shoving a mouthful of mango-quinoa salad into her mouth, "Selene is letting me help her style the spread in the next issue. If she doesn't kill me for an extended dinner break first." Her tone was pointed, reminding her best friend that he was, in fact, wasting what was precious time in her elongated, now-chaotic workday.

 

"Oh, hush, Theia," Alez chastised. "You'll survive if you're-god forbid- _on time_!" He faked a gasp of horror, and his sarcasm was so tangible that Theia could picture his eye-roll and subsequent smirk as if he was standing right before her.

 

"You'd have known sooner if you had actually bothered to come in to work today instead of calling in sick," she reprimanded him, glancing around her desk once more before swallowing another bite.

 

"I _am_ sick, thanks for the well-wishes," he retorted, "like worse-than-that-one-trip-to-Panama sick."

 

Theia winced, sucking a breath in between her teeth. She didn't need that imagery. Suddenly no longer hungry, she pushed her dinner away from her, sucking down a sip of water. "Oh dear," she sighed, "that's pretty major."

 

"You know what'll make it better? Some of Melia's ah-MAZ-ing spiced broth from that little café around the corner from _Luxe_. Bring some by when-if...if you end up leaving the seventh circle of hell?"

 

"You are so lucky I love you," Theia groaned. Stopping at the café meant dealing with Marxen, and if she could barely handle speaking fluidly to normal people, she definitely was a disaster when speaking to _him_.

 

"I know," came the smug reply through her phone. "Tell Satan I send my regards."

 

"She isn't Satan-" but her hissed protest was cut off by the click of the receiver on the other end, meaning he hung up on her. She settled the phone on the nested receiver, rubbing her temples for a moment. Alez was sick; Selene was being demanding (more-so than usual). All of it was just spinning out of control. She took another long swig of water before closing her eyes for a moment.

 

_You can do this. You can do this. You can do this._

 

Opening her eyes, she didn't feel any less overwhelmed, but according to nearly every psychological expert, that kind of talking to the self improved self-confidence and increased happiness...or it just made people go crazy and gave them more patients.

 

Theia immediately reprimanded herself for such a thought. Perhaps she was losing her mind, resorting to sarcasm. She sighed before pushing back her chair, attempting to mentally prepare for the next god-knew-how-many hours she was going to be working.

 

When she arrived in Selene's office, the woman was reclining at her desk, pump-clad feet perched on the table before her, holding a bowl of soup in her immaculately manicured hands, gaze firmly trained on the television monitor in front of her, absorbing every detail that came from the reporter's mouth.

 

"...and after the rebel attack last week, both King Cyrus and Crown Prince Myron have been hospitalized with severe illnesses, similar to the ones plaguing the population in sporadic locations. In the last two weeks, there has been a 35 percent increase in the number of cases witnessed, with close to a couple hundred thousand citizens infected, with that number rapidly growing.

 

"Doctors and other medical professionals have been thus far unsuccessful in identifying exactly what this illness is, and what it does, beyond manifesting rapidly from a normal virus to a deadly infestation in a collection of three stages. Both the king and the heir are reported to be in severe condition, and the kingdom is being warned to watch out for those with illnesses displaying signs of any of the three stages of this plague."

 

Selene clicked the screen off before the list could come up, and Theia turned her head towards her, mouth open in a protest she would never vocalize.

 

"The plague," her boss muttered, "can you believe it? That's just what we need, an incurable rampaging illness on the loose."

 

Theia's eyebrows furrowed and she tucked one of her blonde locks behind her ear. "I beg-I beg your pardon?" She stuttered out, blinking her blue eyes twice in succession. It was a habit she had when she stuttered.

 

"The war, the threat of an economic crisis, and now the plague. The kingdom is fragile enough as it is, Theia. I daresay more fragile than you."

 

Theia did not protest the remark, knowing herself to be meek and also knowing that trying to argue with Selene would not get her any closer to that designer position she so desperately desired. Instead, she walked over to the dozens of fabric swatches that had all been laid out on the table, picking up two in her hands. "Now, I know you don't particularly like doing muted tones going into summer issues," she began hesitantly, biting her lip and looking down at the fabric in her hands. "But what would you think if we did this olive color with a color-blocked skirt in these shades?"

 

The impressed look on Selene's face told her the conversation had transitioned in her favor.

~~~

The sky showed no sign of light as Theia left the _Luxe_ building, not even the faint post-sunset glow that lingered for hours-a common occurrence in Mialdo, a city in the southern tip of Clermont, which was also one of the southernmost provinces in Illéa. The last time she had looked at a clock had been forever ago, when she and Selene were knee-deep in floral skirts and studded boots, and it had read thirteen minutes past ten. Despite the hour, she couldn't keep the smile off her face.

 

Selene had been impressed with her work, and had vocalized as much, a rarity for her. Theia couldn't quell the pride swelling within her, and had been so shocked she couldn't make words leave her mouth-though she already had some difficulty with that. Instead, all she was able to do was give a very surprised smile, not knowing if she should believe the words. Knowing Theia's shy tendencies, Selene took it to mean her gratitude, and gave her a small satisfactory smile before returning to the clothing.

 

Theia was so giddy about it that she nearly skipped across the street to the café, though she refrained. At this hour, it was closed, though for how long, she had no idea.

 

Peeking in the window, she saw him. Marxen. He was sweeping the floor, a large brown bag on the floor by the door, likely the leftover food that they donated at the end of every day. Theia was transfixed, gazing at him. If only she were less shy, or had more courage when they were schooling, then maybe things would be different...

 

She rapped lightly on the window, catching his attention. When he looked up and his gaze met her, a grin took over his features, and Theia did her best to ignore the warm, bubbly feeling that swept her up. He set the broom aside and wiped his hands on his pants before coming over and opening the door.

 

"Theia," he greeted gently. "Hey. I didn't expect to see you so late. I didn't expect to see anyone this late," he greeted, giving her his brightest smile. "What do you need?"

 

"Alez is sick," she started, her gaze immediately dropping to her feet. If she looked at him too long, she got too nervous. "Do you think it would-it would be possible to get some of your spiced broth?"

 

"Of course," he replied, opening the door further. "Come in, come in, I'll put together a thermos."

 

She thanked him with a small smile, ducking her head as she scooted past him and into the building, immediately enjoying the warm aroma of spices, breads, and something unnameable. Marxen went behind the counter, pulling a large plastic container out from beneath it and began ladling the broth into it carefully.

 

"Still working at _Luxe_?" He asked, looking up at her. She nodded with a small smile. "This is a little late to be working," he commented.

 

 

"Selene needed me," she replied quietly. He nodded.

 

The tension in the air, the awkwardness, it was suffocating her. Neither could pretend that it wasn't there, but neither want to acknowledge the reason it was.

 

"Got that designing job you've always dreamed of, yet?" He asked, flashing her a smile. He knew, just as much as nearly anyone close to her, that she desperately wanted that career.

 

"Not yet, but I think I'm getting closer. Selene is realizing my talents, I think," she responded, shrugging her shoulders and biting her lip.

 

He nodded, smiling. "If anyone deserves that job, Theia, it's you. You've been working so hard at it for so long.

 

She smiled in thanks, watching him rinse the ladle before setting it away to dry and going to retrieve a lid for the container.

 

"So, how's your-uh-your fiancée," she stammered, blinking twice.

 

Immediately the air in the room changed. The tension thickened, to the point where it was nearly visible. The elephant in the room had been acknowledged, but not outright admitted.

 

Right.

 

"She's..." Marxen paused, opening a bag for her to carry the broth in, seeming as if he was debating her something. "She's great," he finished, smiling softly up at her. "We're incredibly happy and very excited for the wedding. I hope you'll change your mind and come."

 

Theia's stomach sank slightly, though she didn't know why or what she had expected. "We'll see." It was a battle to keep her voice light. "It'll depend on if Selene decides to have me work or not." That wasn't the reason, but it was better than admitting what was.

 

Marxen handed her the bag, chewing the inside of his lip as he gazed at her before walking her to the door. "Hopefully she'll set you free for a day," he murmured, opening the door for her. She carefully stepped outside, keeping her gaze off him. Marxen was silent for a moment before he opened his mouth, closing it nearly immediately afterwards. He opened it again once more, and spoke as if he was carefully choosing his words.

 

"Be safe, Theia," he told her softly, looking at her with sad, safe eyes. "There are people who care for you immensely."

 

She nodded and waved slightly. "Thanks for the broth," was the only reply she could muster; it was the only reply that was appropriate before she turned away and started the walk home, blinking tears out of her eyes so that he wouldn't see them.

 

For the entire duration of her journey home, she was completely immersed in memories, small stolen moments, shared smiles, the sweet, innocent brushes of hands against each other. The fateful letter from him, and her inability to properly voice her own response. Her spur-of-the-moment internship, which whisked her away from him. The long period of time with no communication. Seeing his engagement in the paper, running into him at the café not even a day later, seeing him look at her in the same way he did a couple years ago.

 

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice the flashing lights at first when she turned onto her street. It wasn't until a second siren sounded that she was pulled from her reverie and jolted into chaotic reality.

 

On the street before her was a flurry of emergency medical care providers, rushing around a house, all wearing hazmat gear. The perimeter of the house had been sectioned off, barring anyone from coming near it. Theia wondered what could possibly be so serious to warrant such drastic measures, and she slowly approached the scene. An official came up to her, a grim expression on her face.

 

"Do you live here, miss?" She asked Theia. She shook her head, finding it hard to take her eyes off the mayhem before her.

 

"N-no," she managed to get out. "I live a few houses down the lane," she said, pointing. "Ivory with navy shutters and the marbling in the yard."

 

"Is there a way you can find a place to stay tonight?" The officer asked. Theia shook her head again, biting her lip and clutching the broth bag tighter in her hands. "And what is your name, miss?"

 

"Th-Theia Costas," she replied, noticing a figure being attached to a stretcher, trying to see who it was. At her name, the officer raised her brows. "The daughter of Marilou and Abel Costas?"

 

Theia nodded. "That would indeed me be," she mumbled quietly, wondering when people would ask " _the_ Theia Costas?" instead of her parents' names.

 

"I'll see if we can work something out for you. In the meantime, I advise you to distance yourself until I or another officer retrieves you. We have a plague outbreak."

 

Theia's jaw dropped slightly, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth. Staggering back a few feet, she sat on the steps of the Maybel's front walk, eyes wide and hands trembling.

 

The house that was closed off looked to be the Grimmke's? She couldn't remember if it was them or the Oswalns that lived in that barricaded house.

 

But it didn't look like the Grimmke's household was the only one affected. Medical officers were also wheeling out a stretcher from...two houses down? Or was it three? She couldn't tell, but felt a panic spike in her veins. She hadn't been home since early that morning, when she went into work. Goodness knows what might have happened in that time, who might have contracted the disease.

 

An officer approached her, holding a pair of gloves and a face mask. "We are going to ask that you wear these, Miss Costas," she said, handing them to the blonde, who looked at them with fear in her eyes. "And we're going to have you escorted around the infected premises to avoid your own contraction of it however possible."

 

Theia nodded, but the weight of the severity at hand seemed to make her entire body slow as she slid the mask over her nose and mouth and put the latex gloves on.

 

"Who is infected? How many are there?" She asked the woman, worry seeping into her ton

 

"We aren't allowed to disclose the identities, but we have eight infected people identified."

 

Eight. Mercy, that number was high for just a simple lane in Mialdo, Clermont. The woman started to lead her, but Theia could only stand for a moment, utterly shocked. Were her parents...?

 

No, she couldn't think that, even for a moment. Shaking herself from her reverie, she walked cautiously behind the woman, gaze flitting nervously over the mass of ambulances and other medical vehicles now covering her street.

 

She was nearly out of the thick of it and back home when she caught sight of another body being loaded onto a stretcher, and she craned her neck slightly to try to identify who it was; was it one of the little children who always played in the streets? Or their mother? The stretcher started moving towards the ambulance in front of her, and she caught sight of who it was, her stomach sinking and tears flooding her eyes.

 

It was Alez.

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So welcome to Intertwined.
> 
> This story is one I've had in my head for ages. I've formulated and put on hold and then came back to this project so many times, and I do promise that the things I have planned cannot possibly disappoint.
> 
>  
> 
> That said, what were your thoughts on the first chapter? (It's a pretty hard hitter, I know). I think you get a good little glimpse into our dear Theia's life and it sets the scene nicely for what I want to do with it going forward.
> 
>  
> 
> For those of you who don't know me, my name is Katie/Kt, and I am the owner of multiple accounts on instagram that have changed over the years so I won't mention all of them.
> 
>  
> 
> If you liked this chapter, drop a note, comment on it (critique and predictions ALWAYS welcome), and share it with someone who you think would like it!!
> 
> All my love,
> 
> Kt.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theia copes with the news about Alez; tragedy strikes the kingdom.

 

    It was the third day that she sat at the table, hands folded in front of her face, staring off into nothing in particular. She hadn’t been allowed to see him. Not even his own parents were, though they were now quarantined and being monitored for signs of possible contraction. The entire lane, for that matter, was being watched closely, and weren’t going to be allowed to go anywhere for another two days.

 

    Selene, of course, had been extremely irked when Theia called in to tell her this, but in the end, the desire not to potentially contract a viciously deadly disease won out over forcing her branch of _Luxe_  staff into being workaholics.

 

    And besides, as Theia had reminded Selene, she could work from home and manage everything just fine. The orders would still get shipped, the papers Selene needed would end up in the right hands, and everything would still get executed before it was even thought about being needed.

 

    She wished she had work to distract her, though. Anything was better than just sitting in this house, thinking about the best friend who hadn’t even crossed her mind when she witnessed the chaos unfolding in their street that night. She hadn’t even stopped to consider the fact that he had called in sick from work that morning, that he told her it was the worst he had ever been. All she could think about was her mother and father, her own household, instead of the one person that had quite literally always been by her side.

 

    The brown bag of broth from Melia’s sat at the other side of the table, rumpled and torn in a couple places, as paper bags tend to do. Its stare bore into her, twisting that knot of guilt around in her stomach until she felt like she was going to be sick. And yet, she couldn’t take her eyes from it. It was the closest thing she had to Alez right now, and she was clinging to it as if keeping it around would save him.

 

    It was foolish; she knew that.

 

    Her mother came up behind her, stroking her daughter’s flaxen locks and setting a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Theia,” she coaxed gently, resting her hand on Theia’s shoulder. “Come on. Eat.” She took the chair beside Theia’s, a sigh filling her lungs as she gazed upon her only child.

 

    Theia picked up the spoon, but could only push the cereal pieces around, looking at them with blank eyes.

 

    “He’s a fighter, you know that,” her mother murmured, reaching over and taking her daughter’s hand. Theia’s gaze finally moved, resting on her mother. Tear tracks were apparent on her cheeks, and her face showed no hint of the sweet young woman who usually was there.

 

    “I just…I just forgot he existed in that moment,” Theia whispered, voice trembling. “I-I saw everything happening and he didn’t even cross my mind.” She buried her face in her hands, hiccuping for a moment. “After anything happens, he always immediately thinks of me, comes to me, is there for me, and I-I-I didn’t do the same.”

 

    “Oh, sweetheart, come here,” her mother said, pulling Theia into her lap despite her being twenty years old. “You did nothing wrong,” she whispered into Theia’s hair, wrapping her arms tightly around her and rocking her back and forth. “I know that, Alez knows that, everyone knows that. When you did find out, you immediately wanted to be there for him, it’s not like you completely ignored the situation. You just didn’t know. Your love and concern still exist, and it’s _that_ which matters more than anything.”

 

    Theia sniffled, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I don’t want to lose my best friend,” she whispered, biting her lip.

 

    “You won’t,” her mother reassured her. “Even the plague can’t get rid of Alezekiel Marone.”

 

. . .

 

    The day was beautiful, as it was prone to be in Clermont. Much too beautiful to be inside lounging on a couch and lazing around, and yet that is exactly what the Costas family was doing. Theia was stretched out on the couch, flipping through a magazine, the family kitten snuggled into the patch of sun on her lap. Her feet rested on the lap of her mother, who was examining the itinerary for a charity gala the following weekend, clucking her tongue and muttering a few things here and there, the sound of her pen scratching. Her father was lazily reclined in his rocking chair—the very same one that he used to rock his little girl to sleep in every night, as he liked to remind her—reading the office reports and other such nonsense that had been sent to him. The television was on, the local news station providing a background noise to the otherwise rather quiet room.

 

    “Mary and Alice want to perform their ballet again,” her mother commented, pursing her lips. Theia’s father grunted. “And Caroline proposed the ridiculous idea of having her husband make the big speech again. Really, Abel, I thought you discussed this with him.”

 

    “With _him_ ,” her father emphasized. “Clearly, dear Marilou, we husbands merely live in our households and let our wives run our lives.”

 

    While the comment was sardonic, there was a loving tinge to his tone, and he stopped browsing the report before him to smile at his wife, who pretended to be indignant but couldn’t hide her own smile.

 

    “Fine, I’ll do it myself,” her mother declared, licking her finger and then turning the page. “Did you talk to Selene about having her bring Oscar to the gala?” She asked her daughter. “It would be simply lovely if he could be there and discuss auctioning off a few of his designs for the cause.”

 

    When Theia didn’t answer, her mother swatted her leg with the papers in her hands. The kitten, startled, mewled at the disruption of its nap and leaped off her lap.

 

    “Hey!” Theia protested, reaching for the kit and scooping him back into her lap, stroking his forehead. “You scared Onyx.” She pulled the black-furred baby up to her face, cradling his small body in her hands. “I’m sorry baby,” she cooed at him, placing a kiss on his little pink nose. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” She cradled the little fuzzball close to her chest before turning her attention back to her mother. “Yes,” she said, setting aside the magazine she was scanning. “As far as I know, he’ll be there.”

 

    Honestly, she loved her mother dearly, and knew her mother loved her, too, but sometimes wished her mother didn’t see Theia’s job at _Luxe_  as her own means to further her charity projects or social standing or whatever it was she called it.

 

    The matriarch pursed her lips and opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Theia’s father.

 

    “My darlings,” he started, knowing he was avoiding a potential spat. “I do believe it is time for _The Crossword._ ” He turned up the volume of the television, while the opening song played for the Costa Family’s favorite family activity: watching the game show.

 

    Theia’s attention returned momentarily to the magazine she had been scanning, folding the corners of pages she found useful for some things Selene needed while her mother and father called out answers at the television, followed by enthusiastic cheers when they were right and sighs when they weren’t.

 

    Theia’s attention was just about to return to the television for 9 Down, her father calling out the answer to “Vigor’s partner” with a triumphant “Vim!”,  and the family awaiting the answer.

 

    It never came.

 

    Instead, the televised show was interrupted by a news anchor, a somber look on her face.

 

    “We interrupt your scheduled programming with some urgent national news,” she spoke, her voice serious. Theia’s gaze turned to her father, whose eyes were wide and his shoulders shrugged at her as if to say ‘I have no idea’, which frightened her slightly. Usually her father was one of the first to know things, especially things considered to be national news. Whatever this was, it was over his head.

 

    “As the entire kingdom is aware, the plague virus has ravaged many civilians, and has killed nearly every person infected, with a 95% death rate.”

 

    Theia’s eyes widened, biting her lip. 95%? Her thoughts went straight to Alez.

 

    “Three days ago, it was reported that King Cyrus and Crown Prince Myron Angeles-Leventis had both contracted the virus and were in critical condition. This morning, as of about ten in Angeles, Prince Myron was reported dead.”

 

    Theia’s jaw dropped. She quickly did the math in her head. Ten in Angeles meant one in Clermont. She glanced at the clock, which read 1:43. The royal staff had wasted no time in delivering the kingdom’s harsh blow. The heir to the throne was dead, and the virus that took his life was now making its home in her best friend’s body, who had by far, much fewer resources than the Angeles-Leventis family did. Theia felt a pit form in her stomach.

 

    “The king is reported to still be alive, but his condition status has not gotten any better than the ‘critical’ that was reported earlier. A funeral for the prince will be held early next week. Prince Kyprios Cyrano Amias Angeles-Leventis will be flying in this weekend from the time he has spent schooling in Greece since he was thirteen to attend and to undergo preparations, as he now assumes the title of Crown Prince. Queen Astraea has not offered any comment on the death of her elder son or the condition of her husband at this time.

 

    “At midnight local time in each province, there will be a candlelight vigil hosted in honor of the late prince. Check your local listings for the place closest to you hosting one. All citizens of llléa are encouraged to take part in mourning.”

 

    The screen went blank, and a stillness swept over the room for a moment’s time. Theia’s father cleared his throat. “Well,” he sighed. “It looks like I am going to have a rather long night on the phone with Angeles.” He made to stand, gathering all his various papers around him before heading towards his office upstairs. He placed a kiss upon Theia’s forehead as he passed her, shooting her a small smile. 

 

    “Don’t worry, kiddo,” he murmured to her. “Everything will work out.”

    Sometimes she wished everyone was as hopeful as her father was.

. . .

    “Theia,” her mother murmured, shaking her gently. “Wake up. We have to go.” Theia groaned slightly in protest, eliciting a mewl from Onyx, a lump under the blanket. “Go where, Mother?” She asked groggily. “It’s eleven and we’re on house arrest.”

    “Your father is expected to give a speech in the city square tonight about Prince Myron, during the vigil” her mother hurriedly explained, pulling clothing out from Theia’s closet and tossing it to her. “And right now, the family needs good press if we want him re-elected as Clermont’s representative to the royalty, so we all will be going.”

    Theia knew that, even if she had the bravery to stand up to anyone, she wouldn’t do it where her father’s desires were concerned. Her father was her weakness, and she was a tried and true daddy’s girl. So she rolled out of bed, letting the kitten settle into the warm spot on the sheets that she had left. She pursed her lips as she perused her mother’s choices for her attire that night; it was clear that perhaps the fashion gene that had been gifted to her grandmother, and as Grand-mère liked to brag, passed along to Theia, had perhaps skipped a generation in her mother. Sighing, she tucked the clothing back in her closet.

    “Theia, we don’t have time for this,” her mother reprimanded, standing in the doorway.

    “Don’t worry, Mother,” she replied softly, giving her mother her soft smile. “I’ll be down and ready in ten minutes.”

    As her mother left the room, she turned back to the closet, sighing softly. Instinctually, she reached for her black sundress. The nights were warmer in Clermont than they were in many other places of the kingdom, seeing as it was so far south and had to deal with all that eastern humidity, however, it wasn’t uncommon for this time of year to carry a small chill, as the seasons were still transitioning from spring to summer, so she pulled out her denim jacket.

    Comfortable, but appropriate for the situation. And if her father was giving a speech, it meant that attention would be on her family, and the last thing any of them needed was negative gossip. Theia avoided the limelight, whether it was good or bad, and attention of any sort on a massive public scale made her incredibly nervous.

    Slipping into her plain flats, she ran her fingers through her hair, sorting out the blond strands and smoothing them into place, trying not to be fussy with the whole thing. Leaving her room, she passed her father’s office, the door ajar and revealing Abel Costas walking around the room as he spoke.

    “…to be as soon as possible.” She caught. “With Cyrus in such uncertainty and having lost a son, Queen Astraea is in goodness knows what state. Perhaps the best thing at the moment to show a united royal front despite the tragedies is to put Prince Kyprios through the necessary procedures to take the throne.”

    There was a long pause, and Theia felt bad for being outside the door, hand raised to knock, but she couldn’t.

    “No, no,” her father replied to whoever he was speaking to. “The poor boy lost a brother and is worried he could lose a father. Perhaps rushing straight to that is a bit much. Don’t force that now. Give the family time to grieve. They need that.”

    Theia heard her mother call up to her and rapped gently on the door twice, pushing it open and popping her head in. Her father smiled at her, pulling the receiver of the phone away from his mouth to whisper “I’ll be down in thirty seconds” before returning his attention to the conversation on the phone. Theia nodded, leaving the room and heading downstairs to her mother. Two minutes later, her father joined the pair.

    “Well, then,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head and one to his wife’s cheek. “One thing settled, a million others in a state of unrest.”

    The car ride to the city square was brief, but tense. Her father kept rustling his papers, likely trying to puzzle out exactly what it was he wanted to say, where to take the pauses necessary, and how to best address not only the city, but the province as the event would be broadcasted throughout Clermont. Her mother, on the other hand, fussed over the smaller details, like his tie choices and how flat his hair lay, even adjusting the wedding band on his finger. It was a habit of hers before big public events like this. She would get fussy over little things, but there was never a malicious intention, and her father kept his good nature in the situation.

    Their relationship was one that Theia admired. Not only were they romantic companions, but they managed to be partners in everything. Her mother supported her father’s life as a political representative, and he supported hers as the coordinator of events for many of the organizations throughout the city and other regions in Clermont. The fondness with which they regarded each other, and the way neither expected the other to sacrifice their own passions set up an ideal for Theia’s view of her own marriage, which her mother had not-so-subtly brought up in the recent weeks.

    Thankfully, though, that topic seemed to be dormant with everything happening, between Alez, Prince Myron, and her father. She hoped it stayed that way, at least for a little while.

    Upon their arrival in the square, the Costas family was immediately ushered into a private room in a nearby building, allowing them a moment’s more privacy before they were escorted out through the waiting crowd that had gathered. Unlike previous events, where lights flashed at them and reporters yelled, each trying to be heard over the other, asking her father about his policies, his plans, and even irrelevant questions like why he wore the tie he was wearing (answer: her mother chose it. Her mother always chose it). The crowds would cheer and boo and yell at the sight of him.

    Tonight, instead, the atmosphere was somber. Cameras flashed less frequently, and instead there were more red video lights from local news stations. No one yelled. No one cheered. In fact, as they walked, a hush seemed to fall over the crowd. The mass of people in Mialdo had been subdued. Tonight was no cause for shouting. Tonight was a moment of mourning, controversy forgotten.

    Theia ducked her head, letting her hair fall in a curtain around her face, avoiding eye contact with the cameras surrounding her. Her gaze was firmly trained on the ground she walked on, though she stole quick glances at the crowd. Her father was separated from her and her mother as they approached the podium upon which he would deliver his speech. Both women were handed candles and given instructions on when to light them. Everyone in the crowd had a candle, she was told, but their two would be the only ones lit at the start of the vigil. At a certain point, they were to share the flame with the people gathered.

    Simple instructions, but she still trembled slightly at the thought of performing such a simple task in such a public manner, thoughts racing with all the ways she could possibly make a mistake.

    Her father took the stage, Theia and her mother at either side of it, standing quietly. Her mother’s gaze was focused on her father. Theia’s was focused on the candle that was alight in her hands. She watched the flame dance with the slight breeze, watched the wax drip down the side of the stick as her hands trembled slightly, looking anywhere but at the masses gathered before them. She barely heard the words her father spoke, barely noticed the familiar faces in the row of people before her, some holding candles that had yet to be lit, and others waving the flag of Illéa.

    “…and now, as we mourn, let us be reminded that we do so as a country, that this loss affects us all as a nation, and that we may console each other in our grief and strengthen each other in our healing,” her father said, his voice so even and soothing as he spoke.

    Her mother stepped forwards, nodding at Theia to do the same. Their time had come. Reminding herself to breathe, she descended the stairs, keeping the candle balanced in her hands. She approached where she was guided to, risking the glance up to see who it was she was approaching first.

    Recognition spread across her features and she felt her stomach sink her body as she realized who was before her.

    Marxen.

    He was wearing that sympathetic look on his face, and she didn’t think she could possibly handle interacting with him twice in one week. Maybe if she was lucky, there wouldn’t be any speaking.

    As she approached, she extended her candle, touching the flame to the wick of his.

    “I heard about Alez,” Marxen whispered. It looked like her luck had run out. “I’m terribly sorry.”

    The flame finally caught after a few moments of trying, and she took a moment, meeting his gaze. Saying nothing, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart thumping in her chest, hoping she kept the emotions off her face. She nodded, managing to breathe a “thanks” before moving on, down the line of people, lighting their candles.

    She felt his gaze burning into her for the rest of the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in! Thank you so much to everyone who has given this critique or even something as simple as merely reading it. It truly means a lot. If you have any thoughts, as always, I'd love to hear them.
> 
> Much love,  
> Kt


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